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H55 



WESTERN MEMORIES 



WESTERN MEMORIES 



BY 
ELEANOR TAYLOR CHANDLER 



PHILADELPHIA 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 
1914 






Copyright, 1914, by 
Eleanor Taylor Chandler 

Published December, 1914 



Press of 

The John C. Winston Company 

Philadelphia 



DEC IB 1914 

©a.A38795G 
too/ 



To 
My Father 



It is with love that I dedicate this 
Httle book to the one who has 
made everything possible for me, 
giving me not only love but com- 
panionship throughout my life. 



PREFACE 

This little book is written in the 
hope that those less fortunate, who 
feel within themselves the tremendous 
longing to know of God's wonderful 
works of Nature but have never been 
able to be near and see, may enjoy 
the experiences I have had. 

Everything is true; everything 
was seen and felt by me, but no 
descriptions written by man can ever 
equal the tremendous work done by 
Nature at the hands of God. 

[7] 



PREFACE 



I do not profess to write. My 
one aim is to try to give my friends 
a little pleasure, and possibly to con- 
vey a little of the pleasure and 
happiness I have had in my short 
life. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Ranching in Wyoming ... 13 

II. Through the Yellow- 
stone on Horseback ... 29 

III. The Canadian Rockies 

and Alaska 45 

IV. California and the Grand 

Canyon 63 

L'Envoi 83 



[9] 



RANCHING IN WYOMING 



CHAPTER I 

Ranching in Wyoming 

T the age of eight- 
een, when Hfe is 
sweet and beautiful, 
when a girl looks 
through rose-col- 
ored glasses and 
sees naught but 
beauty, I was told 
that I was to spend the summer on 
a ranch. Can anyone imagine the 
feelings of joy I had on having such 
news imparted to me on a bright 
Spring morning! Having a longing 
for the freedom of prairies, the feel 




I3l 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

of a good horse, and to see the vast 
expanse of country, I was lost in 
joyful anticipation. 

The little ranch was located out- 
side of Sheridan, Wyoming, at the 
foot-hills of the Big Horn mountains. 
The train ride was rather uninter- 
esting and very long and tiresome, 
so when the conductor called "Sheri- 
dan!" at the end of three days, we 
were more than glad to step off the 
train, for we were throbbing with 
thoughts of the new experiences 
ahead of us. 

Sheridan is a typical Western town, 
one long, wide, main street running 
through it, shops on both sides filled 
with inviting Indian baskets, Navajo 

[14] 



IN WYOMING 



blankets and pottery made by the 
Red Men. Perhaps next door will 
be a shop where tobacco, riding ap- 
parel, saddles and bridles are sold. 
A few doors below will be what is 
commonly termed a saloon, with a 
half dozen or more cowboys loitering 
lazily outside, most picturesque in 
their cowboy hats, spurs and chaps. 
We had a ride of eighteen miles from 
the village to the ranch. I can now 
remember my first view of the 
prairies! Dear reader, unless you 
have seen and known that vast 
expanse of country, I am afraid you 
will not be able to feel with me that 
sense of smallness and loneliness 
all in one that I experienced with my 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

first view. The sun had just set, 
leaving an after-glow of many soft 
colors fading one into another, and 
peeping over the horizon the full 
moon was slowly rising, giving to that 
world a radiance such as she gives 
nowhere else. It was truly beauti- 
ful, and as we dashed along driven 
by a cowboy in a coach drawn by six 
western horses, hearing no sounds 
but the soft pounding of their unshod 
hoofs, and an occasional crack of the 
long lash, I surely thought it was all 
a dream. 

But fortunately I soon woke to 
realization, for as the coach swung 
around the corner and the driver 
threw the reins to a waiting cowboy, 

fi6] 



IN WYOMING 



we heard for the first time in hours 
the sound of human voices. The 
arrival of the coach means a great 
deal, so midst many cheers the 
people of the ranch with one rush 
were there to greet us. 

The ranch house was small and of 
frame structure, very important look- 
ing for a ranch and more common- 
place than I in my prism-colored 
glasses had imagined it. A quarter 
of a mile from the house were rows of 
tiny log cabins where the men slept, 
while near the house were huge tents 
arranged as living quarters for the 
women. In view of the house were 
the corrals where the horses were 
brought in each evening from the 



17 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

prairies, to be fed, watered and 
saddled. Surrounding the corrals 
were the outhouses. 

The country itself was not flat and 
uninteresting, but exceedingly roll- 
ing, for we were in what is termed 
the land of buUes. 

Never shall I forget my first 
dinner there, or what the Westerners 
termed supper, for we had dinner in 
the middle of the day, as I after- 
wards learned. Being only eighteen, 
as I have already said, I had the 
vanity of any other girl of that age, 
and decided to look my very prettiest 
that first night on the ranch, so out 
of my trunk came — as I thought — 
my most becoming little red silk 



IN WYOMING 



frock. With all the assurance in the 
world, and all the pomp, glory and 
dignity that my five feet two gave 
me, I walked in to the dining-room. 
After a moment of absolute silence, 
one cowboy jumped up from his 
chair crying: ** Three cheers for the 
dresser." In one second it seemed 
to me that no Roman conqueror ever 
heard more noise or demonstration 
on his victorious return from the wars 
than this poor little frightened girl 
on her entrance into a dining-room 
in a little red dress. Such a lesson 
it was, too! For ever after a flannel 
shirt, khaki skirt and leggins were 
worn, and the vanity as well as the 
red dress had to be locked away. 

[19] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

My life there for the first month 
was spent largely in riding over the 
prairies. I never grew tired of the 
easy motion of my horse, but if I 
felt more in the humor for life I had 
a horse saddled that fairly flew. 

Each night we would ride six 
miles for the mail, returning home 
in either the starlight or moonlight; 
and how wonderful it was, too, to 
feel the soft breezes blowing gently 
against one's face, to feel the easy 
motion of a good horse, and to look 
up and see millions of stars staring 
down — no sign of life — nothing but 
endless miles of undulating country. 
And as one brings his horse to a 
standstill at the top of a small hill or 

[20] 



IN WYOMING 



butte, a feeling comes slowly stealing 
over — a feeling of goodness, of big- 
ness, of contentment, and a feeling 
of absolute trust in something more 
powerful than ourselves. I have 
had that feeling many, many times 
while riding along in the moonlight, 
for the solitude and beauty of the 
night bring us nearer to better and 
higher things. 

One interesting experience was on 
the Fourth of July when a party of 
us had our horses saddled and rode 
fourteen miles to a little village where 
they were to celebrate the Fourth ot 
July with riding competitions and 
races. I remember the little village 
so welL for it boasted of two hundred 



l2i] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

people and could hardly be called a 
village, it was so small. We were 
the only Easterners there; cowboys 
with their families and some without 
them had ridden miles and miles, and 
such an interesting picture they made, 
too, and how they could ride! In the 
competition the man who could stay 
on a bucking horse the longest won 
fifty dollars. It was a fight between 
man and beast for supremacy. Each 
showed superb stubbornness and 
strength, and each only gave in to the 
other when that will had been con- 
quered. 

We were looked over so many times 
and labelled ''tenderfoot" by so 
many cowboys in their superior way. 



IN WYOMING 



that I felt that we had afforded them 
considerable amusement. 

A circus in the West is very inter- 
esting, too, for the poor souls seldom 
ever see human beings outside of 
their own families, so when a circus 
arrives in a place like Sheridan, 
families start days ahead and drive 
miles and miles, never tiring as long as 
they have the thought of excitement, 
fellowship and diversion in mind. 

One day a party of eight of us 
started for a sixty-mile ride into the 
foot-hills of the Big Horn mountains. 
We left very early in the morning, 
just after the sun had risen, and 
jogged along easily, stopping at the 
different ranches to rest and for 



[23] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

refreshments. As we started up the 
winding mountain I can see even now, 
after nine years, the wonderful pano- 
ramic view of the country for sixty 
miles around. The light of the 
prairies and sunset mingling together 
made a peculiar softness, such as I 
had never seen before nor since. 
We spent the night in a tiny log 
cabin nestled in the mountains, and 
how good the grouse tasted, and 
what a wild feeling there was, for we 
heard the cry of the distant coyotes, 
and an occasional growl of a hungry 
bear, making us glad that we were 
under the shelter of a roof, frail as 
it was. Our ride back the next day 
was rather interesting, as on the way 

[24] 



IN WYOMING 



we saw a polo game between cow- 
boys. It was hard to follow the 
riders, for they all looked alike in 
their chaps, and their horses dashed 
by with such rapidity that the men 
were lost to our eyes in the mass of 
players, horses and mallets. 

With thirty miles still ahead of us, 
much to our regret we left the 
polo game and turned our horses 
towards home. And such a ride 
as the last fifteen miles was! The 
sun had set, and long ere we 
reached the ranch our only guide was 
the moon. In all her glory, she 
bathed us in her rays of silver and 
made the world a hushed, hallowed 
place of beauty. 



25 



THROUGH THE YELLOW- 
STONE ON HORSEBACK 



CHAPTER II 

Through the Yellowstone on 
Horseback 



E have all of us 
heard of Colonel 
Cody, or *^ Buffalo 
Bill," yet I feel 
there are few who 
know that out in 
Wyoming there is 
a little village 
called Cody, from which leads a 
wonderful trail of ninety-three miles 
to the entrance of the Yellowstone 
Park, founded and named by Colonel 
Cody. It is a trail of wondrous 




29 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

beauty, of wildness and of untiring 
interest to those who are fortunate 
enough to have traveled over it and 
to have been received into the arms 
of Nature. For there Nature reigns 
supreme ! 

Our outfit consisted of cowboys, 
six-horse wagons carrying our tarps 
or sleeping-bags, several wagons 
filled with cooking utensils and food, 
and twenty wildly enthusiastic peo- 
ple waiting impatiently for new ex- 
periences to begin. 

After much delay the outfit finally 
started. I can see now how slowly 
the train of horses and people crept, 
how the village began to fade, how 
the country began to become more 

[30] 



THE YELLOWSTONE 

mountainous and wild, and how at 
last we found ourselves lost to all 
things but those made by God. 

I remember so well our camp that 
first night. We halted beside a 
little stream. The horses were soon 
unsaddled, the cooking utensils un- 
packed, the fire began flaming and 
soon the delicious odor of food came 
to us. To anyone after a forty- 
mile ride nothing could be more 
welcome, nothing could make one 
forget the aches and pains more 
quickly than the sight of a huge fire, 
the delicate perfume of the burning 
wood and the actual sight of food. 
I am sure no one has forgotten that 
first meal, and how good it tasted. 

I31I 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

Supper being over, now we could 
find heart to fully appreciate the 
wonderful novelty of our new life. 
The big fire was still burning brightly, 
the stars had come out one by one, 
and '*Day, like a weary pilgrim, had 
reached the western gate of Heaven, 
and Evening stooped down to un- 
loose the latchets of his sandal 
shoon." Evening brings quiet and 
repose. As its shadows fall, birds 
and animals seek their shelter, and 
even inanimate Nature seems to 
compose itself to rest. And so we 
rested! Mother Earth received our 
tired bodies, and with the mountain 
standing guard, the little stream 
drowsily flowing by, and the soft air 



THE YELLOWSTONE 

murmuring a lullaby, we fell into 
the land of dreams! 

We awoke next morning much 
refreshed with the night's rest in the 
open air. The smell of fried eggs and 
bacon was soon wafted on the air, and 
even though the sun had barely- 
reached our sheltered glade, we got 
up eagerly, went to the running 
stream, and after dashing ice-cold 
water on our faces were ready for 
whatever the day held. Breakfast 
being over the horses were lassoed 
and put in a temporary corral where 
saddles and bridles would be adjusted. 
Then with the breaking up of camp 
the day's ride would commence. 
On we rode through this strange, 



33 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

wild mountain country. Ever fol- 
lowing the Shoshone river, ever in 
sight of snow-capped mountains, ever 
finding with each turn of the trail 
some new and wonderful works of 
Nature. And so each day brought 
its wonderments, and night brought 
its rest and beauty, until we suddenly 
found ourselves at the entrance of 
the Yellowstone, but so wonderful 
had been our ride that we were fully 
prepared for all that the Park held 
for us, if such a thing as being "pre- 
pared" is possible. 

Can I ever find words in my very 
small vocabulary to picture in full 
the Yellowstone Park! Can I ever 
make you see the geysers that play 



34 



THE YELLOWSTONE 

so miraculously! Could I ever de- 
scribe the wonderful colors of the 
canyon! Could I produce the feel- 
ings within you that must come to 
each and everyone as they gaze on 
the effervescent earth! I am afraid 
not, for it is something beyond 
human description and human un- 
derstanding. 

The name "Yellowstone" origi- 
nated with the Indians, from the 
yellow cliffs of the Grand Canyon, as 
it was translated Roche Jaune (Yel- 
low Rock) by early French traders. 
The reservation is fifty-five miles 
east and west by sixty-five miles 
north and south, embracing nearly 
three million acres. Thousands of 



35 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

elk, deer, mountain sheep, antelope, 
buffalo, bear and smaller animals, 
and myriads of birds and water fowl 
have the government protection. 
There are also over two hundred 
miles of trout streams, which give 
much pleasure to the angler. 

For two weeks we rode exploring 
this wonderland of the world with 
its beautifully colored pools, basins 
and terraces, mountains of sulphur 
and volcanic glass, stupendous water- 
falls, and thousands of natural curi- 
osities. 

We would often stop by a running 
stream and take a sulphur bath, 
and what a queer sensation it was 
to bathe in natural hot water coming 

[36] 



THE YELLOWSTONE 

from the bowels of the earth! The 
geysers were perhaps the most inter- 
esting, for who can really understand 
why at a certain time a volume of 
scalding water will be thrown at a 
height of from 20 to 250 feet, at 
intervals varying from one hour to 
fourteen days! 

The canyon! The mere name brings 
to my mind a marvelous and bril- 
liantly colored landscape where one 
sits for hours watching its ever 
changing colors without tiring. 

And so we wandered on from day 
to day in this fairyland, ever seeing 
new and wonderful things, visiting 
Old Faithful, Mammoth Springs, 
HelFs Half Acre, Prismatic Lake, 



37 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

and other geysers too numerous 
to name. 

One night when the whole camp 
was sleeping, and the dying embers 
of our fire were the only signs of life, 
we were rudely awakened from our 
slumbers by a man's loud call for 
help. Instantly the camp changed 
from quiet to uproar. Lanterns 
were being flashed here and there, 
each one was asking the other what 
it all meant, and finally we found 
that one of the men had been dragged 
from his sleeping-bag by a huge 
grizzly bear! The beast had been 
attracted by the smell of our supper 
and so had wandered in search of 
food, finding a man to his liking in 

[38] 



THE YELLOWSTONE 

place of bacon. Fortunately the 
cries of a human voice scared the 
beast off, but not before he had left 
his deadly tooth-marks in the shoul- 
der of his victim. It may not be 
necessary to add that sleep for the 
rest of the night was abandoned, 
especially by the woman, for who 
knows a bear's powers of discrimi- 
nation } 

Never can those days of wandering 
be erased from my mind, for I can 
close my eyes and instantly they 
will come floating to me, carrying 
me back until I can feel my little 
horse under me as we rode through 
this wild country in rain, hail, snow 
and finally bathed in sunshine and 

[39] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

warmth. Then will come the night, 
with its glorious skies, its mysteri- 
ous hours of solitude and wildness, its 
camp-fire and the memory of each 
face as the flames illuminated it 
while we sat listening to the stories 
of Indians, poachers and outlaws. 
Little did we realize that we were 
surrounded by men of a type who 
years ago were among the worst of 
the men who gambled, who killed, 
and thought nothing of God's laws. 
How often I hear that call of the 
wild! How often I long to live 
through those happy care-free days 
again! And so out in that vast 
West the life of freedom calls ; Nature 
is holding out her arms to those who 

[40] 



THE YELLOWSTONE 

would be embraced; she will whisper 
again her innermost secrets to those 
who will respond. 

Are those voices for me? Are 
they calling me to live again those 
dream days? 



41 



THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 
AND ALASKA 



CHAPTER III 



The Canadian Rockies and Alaska. 



AN anyone imagine 
any two more allur- 
ing names? The 
Rockies bring to 
one's mind moun- 
tains of insurmount- 
able heights and 
glaciers; Alaska, an 
uncivilized country, snow moun- 
tains and gold. These are the 
things we had to look forward to; 
these were the things we dreamed 
about long ere we started our journey. 
Our trip out was most interesting, 




45] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

as we went over the Great Lakes to 
Duluth, and from there to St. Paul, 
where the train for Banff was boarded. 

After a day's ride on the Canadian 
Pacific over endless miles of prairies, 
through quaint little western villages, 
stopping at " Moose Jaw" and " Med- 
icine Hat," we arrived at Banff. 

Europe has its Switzerland, famed 
throughout the civilized world for 
the splendor of its mountain scenery, 
but to me the paradise of mountains 
is in the Rockies in the western part 
of Canada. 

'* Climb the mountains and get 
their good tidings. Nature's peace 
will flow into you as sunshine into 
trees. The winds will blow their 



46 



CANADIAN ROCKIES 

own freshness into you, and the 
storms their energy, while cares will 
drop off like autumn leaves." There 
"Banff, the Beautiful," is situated. 
Mountains that roll and stretch 
away as far as the eye can reach in 
all directions, try to hide the little 
village from view. 

From Banff we boarded the train 
again for Laggon, or Lake Louise. 
The beauty of this lake no words can 
describe, for it is certainly a master- 
piece among Nature's works. At 
every hour of the day, with every 
sunset, with each night the colors 
ever change. At the end of the lake 
slants a huge glacier, which is fed 
by perpetual snows. Surrounding 

[47] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

the little lake are mountain peaks of 
snow at the height of ten to twelve 
thousand feet. To add to the pic- 
ture a lovely chateau stands at the 
end. We were so interested in the 
servants there, as they were all 
Japanese and three times a day they 
would change their costume of lovely 
blue silk to perhaps pink or laven- 
der. Truly it was a place of beauty 
and color, and truly the author 
spoke in this little verse: 

"Lakes of gray at dawn of day, 
In soft shadows lying; 
Lakes of gold with gems untold 
On thy bosom glowing. 
Lakes of white, 
At holy night 
Glowing in the moonlight.'* 

[48] 



CANADIAN ROCKIES 

Leaving Lake Louise much to our 
regret we once again boarded the 
train for Glacier. Never have I seen 
such wonderful scenery as that we 
passed through. Caverns, moun- 
tains, streams, wildness of every 
description, surrounded us. For miles 
we ran along the famous Kicking 
Horse River, and as we passed the 
Great Divide a feeling of not being 
able to grasp all that this wildness 
meant seemed to creep through our 
very souls. 

Glacier is so shut in on all sides 
by tremendous mountains that one 
feels as though nothing exists the 
other side of them. As one alights 
from the train instantly a feel- 



49 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

ing of rest and peace creeps over 
one. The trees, the streams, 
and even the mountains speak 
"rest." 

The glacier is gigantic, and how the 
sun shining on this huge piece of ice 
makes hundreds of ghstening colors! 
How at night the moon and stars 
look down and see their faces in the 
glassy surface. 

Our ride by train from Glacier to 
Victoria was one of continuous 
beauty. At Ducks we looked out of 
the window of our compartment, and 
there standing guard was a sentinel 
with a double-barreled shotgun. 
The train ahead of ours had been 
robbed, and several people killed, 

[50] 



CANADIAN ROCKIES 

so one can imagine our feelings the 
rest of the night. 

From Victoria we took a boat to 
Vancouver across Puget Sound. Was 
I in a responsive mood; was it Mt. 
Hood, the indomitable snow-clad 
peak on which the sun sought to 
reflect his golden splendor, or could 
it be possible that each day as the 
sun set such colors were visible? 
Whatever it may have been, moun- 
tain, air or sun, I have never for- 
gotten how lovely the whole picture 
was. And here at Vancouver we 
boarded the ''Spokane,'' which was 
to take us into the land of mystery, 
of unrelenting Nature and of golden 
Alaska. 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

As I stood and realized for the 
first time that I was in Alaska, two 
verses of "The Land God Forgot" 
came to my mind : 

"The lovely sunsets flame and die, 
The giant valleys gulp the night, 
The monster mountains scrape the sky, 
Where diamond stars are diamond bright. 

So gaunt against the gibbous moon, 
Piercing the silence velvet piled, 
A lone wolf howls his ancient rune — 
The fell arch-spirit of the wild." 

And lonely it truly was, but wonder- 
ful. 

Alaska with her splendid invigo- 
rating climate; Alaska with her 
magnificent distances, her towering 



52 



CANADIAN ROCKIES 

snow-capped mountains, her majes- 
tic rivers, her fields of gold, her 
fisheries; Alaska, in the shadow of 
the midnight sun, with her glaciers 
and icebergs, held us spellbound! 

The first stop of the cruise was 
Metlakatla, the village of Indians. 
There this little colony has been 
taught, has become civilized and 
been made a partner of the white 
men. Kasaan was a deserted village 
where nothing but totem poles stood, 
and interesting they were too, for 
they are the Indian family trees. So 
picturesque are the villages in this 
country of the North, for there all is 
quiet and peaceful, as there are no 
sounds of trains, trams, horses or 

l53] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

motors which fall discordant on our 
ears. Here the village is nestled at 
the foot of towering mountains which 
gradually slope down to the water's 
edge. There the air is always fresh, 
no smoke from factories, no asphalt 
pavements, nothing to mar the 
beauty of the quaint little village. 

The houses are of low wooden 
structure and practically open on to 
the one boarded street of which the 
inhabitants brag. The shops add an 
uncivilized atmosphere too, for here 
can be bought nothing but the 
roughest materials, miners' outfits, 
and fishing-tackle too varied to name. 

Often we would see the owner sit- 
ting outside on a wooden box whit- 



54 



CANADIAN ROCKIES 

tling, or perhaps playing with a 
httle cub which had been brought 
down from the mountain, while wait- 
ing for trade. 

And to add to the picturesque 
beauty one can see numerous fishing- 
smacks lying at anchor or under full 
sail slowly creep out to sea where they 
find more fish than our imagination 
is capable of grasping. 

Two weeks we spent in visiting 
these strange, unthought-of villages, 
stopping at Skagway, Sitka and Ju- 
neau, the capital. Each little village 
is striving to be more civilized ; each 
shows slow progress, and each is a 
busy little world in itself that must 
be respected. Douglas is the loca- 

155] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

tion of the famous Treadwell Mines 
and was more than interesting. 
We also visited many fisheries and 
canneries, for which Alaska is famous. 
One morning, while cruising from, 
one village to another, I put my head 
out of my port-hole and found we 
were surrounded on all sides by 
icebergs, but as they were the first 
I had ever seen, I was lost in admira- 
tion and wonder, consequently never 
realized the real danger until later; 
but having a good captain no harm 
befell us. When our steamer would 
stop for coal, we would go up in the 
mountain streams for trout. That 
is the wonderful country for fish — 
the streams were alive with them. 



56 



CANADIAN ROCKIES 

and often we would catch a salmon 
too. 

One of the most interesting trips 
was the ride up the famous "White 
Pass," or entrance to the Klondike, 
where had streamed an army of men 
seeking gold. What tales of horror, 
of suffering, and at the same time 
of joy, could that Pass tell! It was 
a ride on a strange little railroad 
through the clouds until the summit 
of the mountain was reached. How 
beautiful, how uncivilized it all was! 

The next day we saw Muir Glacier 
for the first time. This gigantic 
mass of blue ice with its dangerous 
crevasses, which has taken human 
life so relentlessly, extends over one- 
Is?] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

hundred and fifty square miles. We 
walked for several miles over this 
moving ice, and terrible but fascinat- 
ing it was, too. The guide showed 
us many places where men had met 
death by falling through the parted 
ice and had been helpless at the 
hands of Nature, the all-powerful. 
There had been many walks we had 
all enjoyed much more, I am sure, and 
I know we were all glad to step off 
this glacier in safety. 

For centuries this glacier has been 
steadily rolling, steadily gathering 
the melting ice and snow from season 
to season, never ceasing. 

And so after many days spent in 
this country of wildness and beauty 

[58] 



CANADIAN ROCKIES 

where one feels the freshness of day, 
sees the long shadows linger well 
into night, and at last night gradually 
fall upon us, we turned toward Van- 
couver. How unhappy we all were 
to leave Alaska, for had she not 
given us the beauty of her sunsets, 
had she not thrilled us with her 
stupendous beauties, had she not 
given us nights when the heavens 
seemed to be on fire with their 
radiance! 

We felt she had only told us a few 
of her wonderful secrets, and so 
many were still waiting to be told. 

Few of us ever think of that coun- 
try so far away; but theie, with its 
thousands of islands, its beautiful 



59 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

bays, its calm inland seas, its bears 
and other wild animals, its gold 
fields and its people, exists a country 
of the far North full of romantic 
legends and full of wildness and of 
life. 



60 



CALIFORNIA AND THE 
GRAND CANYON 



CHAPTER IV 

California and the Grand 
Canyon 

FTER days spent in 
the cold unrespon- 
sive beauty of Alaska, 
can you imagine how 
our souls reached out 
and drank in the 
warm golden sunshine 
of California, the land of sunshine, 
of flowers and of love ! One imagines 
that sadness never could live in this 
country. There happiness must 
surely be, for the name California 
is magical. There the moon is 




^hdlA^Lj 



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WESTERN MEMORIES 

brighter, the stars are more numer- 
ous, and the soft smell of orange 
blossoms comes faintly to us. With 
every breath we felt as though we 
were breathing in romance. Uncon- 
sciously pictures of adventure, of red 
roses, and of beautiful faces would 
float before our eyes as we sat listen- 
ing to the faint tinkle of guitars and 
the soft voices singing, '*0 Sole Mio." 
San Francisco and Los Angeles 
were very much like eastern cities, 
but Santa Barbara was lovely, for 
there we were on the broad, blue 
Pacific ocean. Each afternoon we 
would ride through avenues of beau- 
tiful palm, cypress and pepper trees 
and others too numerous to name. 



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There flowers grow in profusion 
too, for each Httle face of flowerland 
seems to be prettier and of more 
dehcate shading than its neighbor. 

At Del Monte we took the famous 
seventeen-mile ride. For some 
strange reason the Pacific ocean 
seems bluer and more beautiful than 
the Atlantic. On this ride we felt 
it more. Perhaps it was the rugged 
beauty of the coast, perhaps it was 
the dazzling sunshine, or perhaps it 
was the wonderful coloring of land 
and sea that was there harmon- 
ized. 

Rugged the coast was, and strange 
it was to see seals lying or crawling 
over the rocks. They are becoming 

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WESTERN MEMORIES 

more nearly extinct each year owing 
to blasting farther up the coast. 

Pasadena is a dream place in it- 
self, for it is at the foot of Mt. Lowe 
in the Sierra Madre mountains, and 
has a view in every direction of 
unequaled beauty. The soft balmy 
air at any time of year is of course 
one of the greatest features. 

One afternoon we took a trip up 
Mt. Lowe. After a ride up of three 
thousand feet in a funicular, we 
thought it would be impossible to 
see anything more wonderful, but 
after our climb we took an electric 
car which took us for five miles over 
twenty-five bridges, each giving us a 
dizzy sight of the earth beneath, and 

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around one hundred and twenty 
dangerous curves, which made us 
quiver from fright. Should there be 
one shp of anything, the car would 
drop thousands of feet into eter- 
nity. 

It is truly a remarkable piece of 
engineering. And this little car with 
each turn gave us a view of the 
wildest, most uncivilized of moun- 
tains. 

We saw the sun set as we came 
down from our dizzy height, and the 
full moon rose from behind the 
mountain. The whole picture was 
one of glory and one never to be 
forgotten. 

Two hours from Los Angeles spent 



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in a small steamer brought us to 
Santa Catalina Island. This is an 
island of wondrous beauty, com- 
posed of mountain ranges, peaks, 
deep canyons and level stretches of 
lowlands. 

It was supposed to have been dis- 
covered in 1542, and of course popu- 
lated by Indians. 

There we take a glass-bottomed 
boat and look down into a depth of 
a hundred feet. What a strange 
but busy world do we see! There 
are fish of all kinds swimming 
around and marvelous gardens of 
water life. If one cares for fishing 
at Santa Catalina Island in the 
Pacific ocean, a larger and greater 

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variety can be caught than in any 
other place in the world. 

We took the train for Riverside 
at Los Angeles, and after a three- 
hour ride arrived at a most fascinat- 
ing little city, for here the avenues 
are of cypress and palm trees; flow- 
ers are everywhere and one forgets 
that any kind of a material life is 
lived. 

The hotel where we stayed was 
once an old monastery. Each eve- 
ning at sunset the bells would ring 
for prayers as they did when monks 
lived in the mission house. 

We visited a large ostrich farm, 
which was interesting, and on our 
way we passed through many orange 

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WESTERN MEMORIES 

and grape-fruit groves. How fra- 
grant the blossoms were, too! 

California is a country having 
natural beauty, romance and pro- 
gressiveness at the same time that no 
other country has. Few have ever 
been there who have not loved it, 
and few have not felt the life, fra- 
grance and beauty of it all. 

From Riverside we took the Cali- 
fornia Limited for the Gand Canyon 
of Arizona. We look over these 
endless miles of prairies as the train 
travels swiftly through this waste and 
wonder if this vastness and solitude 
ever ceases. Is there any wonder 
that people go mad for want of 
companionship, for out there the 



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prairies give nothing. They take 
the life and soul out of the poor 
human beings who must live there, 
and it is no wonder that the asylums 
are filled with men and women unable 
to stand burning sands and a life 
of solitude. 

We see many Indians as we pass 
through Needles and other villages. 
They come up to the car window and 
try to sell their pottery, blankets and 
baskets. And I must say that the 
Indian woman who had her little 
papoose tied to her back was very 
apt to sell a blanket so that the 
purchaser might have a chance to 
admire the little Indian baby. 

After this long and hot train ride 



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WESTERN MEMORIES 

we arrived at the Grand Canyon. 
Why should I try to tell you my 
feelings when I gazed at the canyon 
for the first time? Why should 
I attempt to describe to you the 
marvelous beauty of it when others 
have failed ? How could one possibly 
find words enough to make anyone 
see or feel this greatest work of 
Nature, or of God ! For nowhere in 
this world does a canyon exist with 
such colors, such size and such won- 
derments! There is but one Grand 
Canyon ! 

We rode little burros down six 
thousand feet to the Colorado River, 
and as my little beast took the first 
turn of our dizzy, narrow trail I 



CALIFORNIA 



thought the heart had gone from my 
body so frightened was I. When my 
equihbrium had been restored and I 
reahzed that I was still alive instead 
of lying dead thousands of feet 
below, I tried to grasp the scene 
around me. Not the most fervid 
pictures of a poet's fancy could 
transcend the glories revealed in the 
depths of the canyon ! Inky shadows 
and the golden splendors of the sun 
beating against the red and yellow 
sides of the canyon but half make 
the marvelous vision complete. On 
down, down we rode over the" Bright 
Angels'' trail, over the *' Corkscrew," 
where we had to dismount owing 
to the narrow and steep trail, until 



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WESTERN MEMORIES 

the Colorado River was reached. 
Such pigmies we were, of such Httle 
consequence here in this chaotic 
under-world, a boding, terrible thing 
and yet never a flower more exqui- 
sitely beautiful. As we rode up the 
trail we felt as though we were in a 
dream, for the sun was low in the 
west, the canyon was enveloped 
in a rosy-tinted hue shading to a 
mysterious purple shadow, and the 
moon lent her silver rays, making 
a soft radiance of indescribable 
beauty. 

No one can see the Grand Canyon 
in one view, for months and months 
could be spent exploring this gigantic 
work, and even then powerless we 

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would be to shake off the charm of 
this "Titan of chasms." 

Colorado Springs, Pike's Peak and 
the Garden of the Gods were still 
left for us to see, but with the spell 
of the canyon still enveloping us it 
was with little enthusiasm that we 
boarded the train. Twenty-four 
hours more of prairies, sand dunes, 
cacti and wilderness through Arizona 
brought us finally to Colorado 
Springs. 

On stepping off the train naturally 
the first question is which is Pike's 
Peak.^ For here we were surrounded 
on all sides by snow-capped moun- 
tains, but when it has been pointed 
out to us once, it is never forgotten. 



75 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

We take the cog-wheel road at 
Manitou for our ride above the 
clouds — up Pike's Peak. For ninety 
minutes the little engine chugs up 
and up through little glens that soon 
emerge into canyons, verdured hills 
that soon disappear and leave the 
big bleak peak a towering monument. 
Vistas open everywhere. The air 
grows chilly, windows must be shut 
down and wraps are quickly sought. 
As we step out of the car what a sight 
greets our eyes ! What magnificence, 
what immensity sweeping in all di- 
rections! The world is now before 
us! Spread out is a mighty pano- 
rama. Eighty miles away Denver 
can be recognized. Cripple Creek, 

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Goldfield and many other mining 
districts can be seen, while protruding 
their ghstening crests above the 
clouds, spreading out their sheets 
of perpetual snow can be seen many 
mountain peaks. It was a sight 
never to be forgotten! 

Pike's Peak is often termed *'The 
Monument of the Continent." No 
term could be more fitting, for 
serene and bold it has stood through- 
out the cycles of time; and still it 
stands, giving to those who seek, a 
joy seldom -experienced in one's life. 

Fascinating, untiring of interest 
and beauty, are the drives from 
Colorado Springs, especially through 
the *' Garden of the Gods,'' for here 



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WESTERN MEMORIES 

stand rock formations of every kind, 
here the imagination plays, here 
one seeks to fathom the secrets of 
the "silent." 

Helen Hunt Jackson, the famous 
writer of California romances, is 
buried in a beautiful spot outside of 
Manitou. She was only one of 
thousands who knew, felt and under- 
stood the natural beauty, the clear 
invigorating air, and the fascination 
of loving the West. 

And now at Colorado Springs we 
realized our days of travel were over. 
We realized that the realities of all 
we had seen were to become memor- 
ies — for we came east by way of 
Chicago. 

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After these years that have passed, 
the scenes, experiences, sunsets, 
moonhght nights and wonderments 
of all that vast West still live with 
me. I can see and feel it all now as 
I did then, and I know throughout 
the years to come nothing will 
change. A strange influence the 
West casts over me, one that can not 
be shaken. I know those who have 
been where I have, have experienced 
the same feeling of thanksgiving to 
God for making this world of ours 
such a place of beauty. 



1 79 



L'ENVOI 




L'ENVOI 

HERE is Alaska with 
her snow-capped 
mountains; the Can- 
adian Rockies that 
speak wonderment in 
themselves, and Cal- 
^ ifornia the land of 

perpetual sunshine, and the whole 
vast West that gives to us all that 
we are able to grasp, and yet not 
far from here is a tiny island in the 
Susquehanna River which gives to 
the heart more actual joy. There 
are no snow-capped mountains, there 
are no glaciers, there the sun does 
not always shine, but Love's Island 



83 1 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

and the free life that is there Hved 
makes us feel and know that over- 
powering Nature is not needed. There 
softness of beauty reigns, and looking 
towards the west at sunset it seems 
that the hills are bathed in golden 
splendor, and that the earth must 
surely be on fire, so magnificently 
does the sun sink to rest. 

There life drifts by as the river 
flows, and a life of freedom is lived 
far from artificialities. We are wa- 
kened each morning by the many 
different song birds; we peep out of 
our tents and see the sun shining 
brightly on the river, and we feel very 
glad to be alive and to be so close 
to Nature. 

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UENVOI 



We know we have a good day's 
fishing before us, so breakfast is soon 
over and we step into our flat-bot- 
tomed boats with the assurance of 
success and superstition of all true 
fishermen. We soon start slowly 
away, being poled by a picturesque 
looking "pusher'' standing in the 
stern. The whole picture reminds 
one of Venice and the gondola, 
except these men must be even more 
expert than the gondolier, for the 
river is full of rocks that seem to hide 
their noses from us, and unless the 
** pusher" is careful he will very 
unexpectedly take a most undigni- 
fied fall into the river. 

Finding a current which promises 



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WESTERN MEMORIES 

bass, our line is baited with a little 
catfish who demonstrates his dislike 
for a hook, and wiggling with all his 
might is thrown overboard as a 
dainty morsel for Mr. Bass. Then 
comes the real pleasure and excite- 
ment when the reel goes hurr, burr 
and we feel the bass strike. To a 
fisherman is there a song sweeter than 
the song of the reel! Is there any- 
thing more exciting than playing a 
bass and finally after a good fight 
landing your prize! What does the 
fisherman care if his hopes and 
aspirations fall a few pounds short 
in reality compared to his imagina- 
tion after the first strike! To the 
really good fisherman hours of wait- 

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ing mean nothing, for even one catch 
is enough to compensate. 

"A three-pound pull, and a five-pound bite, 
An eight-pound jump, and a ten-pound fight, 
A twelve-pound bend to your pole — but, 

alas ! 
When you get him aboard he's a half-pound 

bass.'' 

The bass in the Susquehanna River 
are even more gamey than elsewhere, 
owing to the rocky bottom, for there 
the fish play hide-and-seek with the 
bait among the rocks. 

We return to our little island with 
a string of fine bass, varying from 
one-half to three pounds, and of 
course with stories of ''the might 



87] 



WESTERN MEMORIES 

have beens" and the '*fish that 
weighed many pounds" that got 
away. 

One day when we had been out 
since daybreak, and the fish had 
refused to bite for some strange 
reason, leaving us very downcast at 
the thought of going empty handed, 
we had a very strange experience. 
We had just pulled up anchor and 
had gone but a short distance, 
heading for our island, when with 
one leap a bass weighing three 
pounds jumped in our boat. This 
story has been listened to many times 
with patience by a good listener 
and a fellow sympathizer, but I am 
afraid seldom believed; but as I 

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was there and was sufficiently scared 
by the sudden appearance of the 
fish, I know it to be true. 

That night the bass are cooked 
for dinner, and how dehcious they 
taste, for after a day spent on the 
water our appetite seems to grow. 
Then afterwards, if the moon is shin- 
ing, we are poled up the river and 
float down with the tide. 

What beauty and what rest do 
those nights bring! No sound but 
the farewell notes of a bird, an 
occasional croak of a frog, and the 
lapping of the water against our 
boat. What softness in the air, and 
how brilliant the stars! What a 
delightful and lazy life to lead as 

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WESTERN MEMORIES 

over everything is drawn a veil of 
beauty, and we sink into a reverie 
of delight: 

''The river forever flows singing along, 
The rose on its bank stoops down to its 

song, 
The flower as it listens unconsciously dips 
Till rising wave glistens and kisses its lips, 
But why the wave rises and kisses the rose, 
And why the rose stoops for those kisses, 

who knows, 
For away flows the river, but whither, who 

knows — who knows." 

And so with each visit to Love's 
Island the same feeling of good 
sportmanship, rest and congeniality 
comes. This place of fairy beauty 
never grows tiresome, and those who 

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have been fortunate enough to have 
known it can always look back with 
naught but happiness and longing, 
for real life and the joy of living 
never die on ** Love's Island/' 



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M^ 107 B9 




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^DERY INC. 

^ NOV 89 

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